


everyone knows what Clint's patronus is, okay

by earlofcardigans



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, an abundance of harry potter references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlofcardigans/pseuds/earlofcardigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is maybe a little obsessed with Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everyone knows what Clint's patronus is, okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satago/gifts).



> Thanks to 17pansies for being amazing.

Clint is sitting on the couch, resolutely not moving because Steve told him not to, when Natasha walks by and scoffs. Clint doesn't move except to flick his eyes up to her in the most scathing manner he can manage while motionless. She still wrinkles up her nose at him like he’s just so cute.

Then she passes the couch and says, "Stop it."

Steve looks up then from his sketchpad all confused. "But he's not doing anything."

"Oh, he is."

"I'm not doing anything!" Clint doesn't move, except his lips just barely, even though Steve has stopped sketching. Clint is a really bad ventriloquist. He's practiced, of course, (who hasn't?) but he never mastered it.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks him seriously.

Natasha walks backward toward the kitchen. "He's got his Harry Potter face on."

"Your Harry Potter face?" Steve looks to his sketchpad, back at Clint. "I'm familiar enough with that source material that I can recreate this in the style of Harry Potter if you wish."

Clint gives up, sits up straight, puts his head in his hands. He doesn't sigh, but it's just barely.

"His obsession with Harry Potter, Cap? I know you've noticed." Natasha vanishes.

"I'm not obsessed!" He yells toward her. Then looks back to Steve because he seems like maybe Clint needs help, and Clint cannot deal with his Concerned Captain Face. "I'm not." He shrugs. "A lot anyway. It's just a book series, okay? Let's stop talking about it, Steve, sheesh."

Clint stomps out of the room.

**

 

“Is this a hoodie with wolf ears?” Bruce walks into the kitchen and holds up the hoodie in question. Tony doesn’t turn around from the coffee pot, but he says, “I’m sure it is, buddy. Talk to Barton. I think he’s trying to tell you that he’ll go animagus for you.”

“Animagus?” Bruce folds the hoodie over his arm and looks at Clint.

Clint doesn’t say anything. He sticks his face in his toaster strudel and pretends that the icing is amazingly interesting. Natasha had told him to cut it out, and Steve had been confused. Of course, Tony was already onto him, so. Yeah. Interesting breakfast foods it is, then.

Steve walks in behind Bruce and flicks one of the wolf ears. “Harry Potter,” he says knowingly to Bruce then crosses over to steal Clint’s coffee.

“Seriously? Entire pot over there.” Clint still doesn’t look up.

“Seriously? Tony has a death grip on that pot.” Steve answers in an entirely different tone. Clint doesn’t like it. It’s too saucy for Steve the Hufflepuff. Maybe he sometimes gets to be Captain America the Gryffindor, but Clint likes to keep it real. He’s met Steve.

“So I’m a werewolf?” Bruce stares at the hoodie and then transfers his gaze to Steve. He bypasses Clint altogether, which really. Probably for the best. “Is that one of those sorted columns Clint is always talking about?”

“No.” Steve looks to Clint to field this, but Clint is obviously no help. He’s tired of being teased. It’s not like Natasha isn’t obsessed with the Die Hard movies and Liam Neeson’s lack of even _trying_  to have an accent in any movie ever. And Tony is Tony Stark, king of obsessing wildly over something until it turns into gold. Or something that glows blue. And no one mentions Coulson’s borderline-unhealthy hero worship of a certain Captain.

Clint isn’t that weird, okay.

He grabs his plate, tosses the lot into the sink, and tries to head out of the kitchen without looking like an idiot and with some dignity. He can’t get out of there, though, without saying, “You’re sorted into houses. Werewolves are just werewolves.” He mumbles it fast and books it to the stairs.

**

 

“So I found this game when I was online during that boring debriefing the other day.” Clint nocks another arrow and sizes up the targets. He speaks low and even into his comm, not a distraction, just something to keep the back parts of his mind occupied while he kept the enemy alien fuckers occupied with trick arrows. “It’s like beer pong with quidditch.” Another deep breath, another arrow, another enemy stuck in goo. “I think I would be amazing at that. I do have great aim.”

“If it’s anything like regular beer pong, you’re going to need to be much drunker than the rest of us so we stand a chance at your nerd games, dear,” Tony informs him as he flies by.

Clint tosses off three arrows at once just to show off a bit.

“Stay off the comms, Barton, and give me an ETA to Cap on that big ugly one to your left.” Coulson sounded far away and in control. Like always.

“You are definitely Headmaster of Avengers Tower.” Clint gets an arrow in and slows down that ETA. “I can’t say it’s Fury. I can’t put him in a house. I don’t think he’s as all-knowing as Coulson here. But I’m sure he’s not a squib. He has to be from Durmstrang.”

“Shut the hell up, Barton.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. But we’re trying this quidditch pong when we get home.”

**

 

“But then. What about Bucky?” Steve almost whispers.

And it’s a good question. Clint has thought about it before. This time, they are in Natasha’s suite, drinking the expensive liquor. Steve and Natasha are sitting on the floor because they had been playing the Star Wars Lego game on Nat’s Xbox and having a weird drinking contest. Clint is on the bed, head hanging off the end to watch them upside down. He’s playing with Natasha’s hair, occasionally running his fingers over Steve’s back. He may possibly be drunk. He can’t be sure because he hasn’t checked.

“The thing about Bucky, Steve, is that.” Clint doesn’t know how to say it, say what he’s been thinking without hurting Steve’s feelings. And he can’t do that. It’s Steve.

“He’s like Harry’s parents. He’s always with you.” Clint runs his fingers through the short hair at the back of Steve’s head. Natasha takes Steve’s hand and tilts her head back to look at Clint with soft eyes that tell him he’s done well.

“You know,” Clint draws it out like a song. “Natasha is a Slytherin, Cap. I wouldn’t sit that close to her if I were you.”

Steve scoots closer, leans his head next to Clint’s on the bed. “That’s a load of bull, Clint, and everyone knows it. You already told me just because a few of them went over to the dark side doesn’t mean they’re all bad.”

Clint rubs his nose in Steve’s hair.

“Exactly. I mean, look at Pepper.” Clint tries to shrug and forgets he’s on a bed upside down.

“What is with you and the women around here being snakes?” Natasha pinches his ear.

“Okay, ow. And second, not all of them. Darcy’s on mine and Steve’s side. Most of the time. She’s probably more Gryffindor. Hermione-like.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this sort of philosophical conversation.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“I’m never drunk, so imagine how I feel.” Steve sounds wounded, which is hilarious.

“I do believe I’m the only one drunk enough to not be having any conversations. I think it’s time for a nap.” Clint rolls over and feels Steve get up and join him on the bed.

He rubs Clint’s back. “Poor, little fanboy.”

Clint swats at him. “Who taught you that word? Quit learning words.”

Steve laughs, and Clint feels a nice, warm sense of accomplishment.

**

 

“How many times are you going to read that?” Clint is lounging all over Natasha on the couch while she reads _Les Misérables_.

“As many times as you’ve read _Chamber of Secrets_.” She ruffles his hair.

“It’s my favorite.” Clint sits up. “So, hey.”

“No. I will not be a Weasley to your Potter.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her book. “Not even Ginny.”

“I don’t want you to be Ginny. Even though Ginny in the book is a badass, and they didn’t do her justice in the movie.” Clint has serious opinions on the book-to-movie content, but he keeps most of those opinions to himself. Or shares them with Coulson when it’s late and they have a shit ton of paperwork to finish. Coulson always thinks the books are better and tries to get Clint to read other things that have been turned into movies. It’s not something he likes to do. He likes classics that have so far been untouched. And Harry Potter. But that’s more of a security blanket, favorite stuffed animal kind of thing.

He’s also not like Coulson and Natasha and reading everything in its intended language. Like Nat right now with _Les Misérables_  in French.

Clint rubs his cheek on Natasha’s shirt. He’s pretty sure it is his shirt, but he’s not going to ask for it back. He doesn’t look near as great in it.

“You can be Cosette. That’s a thing in your book, right?” Clint cranes his neck to see her.

“I could. But I don’t want to go to a children’s charity masquerade ball as someone from this book. I was thinking that girl with the fluffy unicorn dog from _Despicable Me_.” She smiles at him because she knows Clint knows that they are never getting Natasha in pigtails.

“I think you should be Mad Eye. Tony could craft you a prosthetic.” Natasha is laughing at him. Clint can tell. He chooses to be the bigger person and not say anything though.

“And piss off Fury? No thanks.” Clint scoffs.

“Just a suggestion,” Natasha replies mildly.

“Noted.”

**

 

“So I was thinking,” Clint doesn’t mean to say any of it out loud, but his brain is refusing to cooperate correctly. He blames the good drugs. He already can’t feel his legs. Natasha says that’s a good thing since one is mangled.

Clint laughs.

Steve’s face looms big in front of him. He has pretty eyes. “You have pretty eyes. But. Not like Tasha. She’s the prettiest Avenger.”

“I won’t tell Tony you said that.” Steve tucks the sheets around him a little tighter.

“Much obliged.” Clint laughs again.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Dogs. I want one.” He rolls his head to the side to stare out the window. He hates medical. Usually Natasha is there when he wakes up. This time he gets Steve, but he looks ready to leave, just passing through. “Tasha says I can’t have one because JARVIS doesn’t have opposable thumbs.”

“Well, that makes sense, I guess.” Steve leans back against the wall.

“We’re too busy avenging shit to make sure a dog lives. But. And I want you to really think about it, Steve, okay?” Clint nods at him to make sure he really thinks about it. The movement makes him a little dizzy. “We could dress him up like a Hungarian Horntail for Halloween.  Or like Aragog for Black Widow Appreciation Day.”

Clint closes his eyes. He’s sleepy again.

“Black Widow Appreciation Day? When is that?” Steve sounds amused. Clint likes hearing it.

“Whenever Natasha says. I’m sleepy.”

“We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Clint likes when Captain America makes him promises. It’s much easier to sleep.

**

 

When Clint first read _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ (He also has _Philosopher's Stone_ because JARVIS wanted him to be well-rounded), Fury had told him to get a hobby and stop pestering him about Coulson. Clint would know when he had clearance to know.

And since he could only spend so many hours in the day at the range before Natasha and Steve threatened to take all his toys away, Clint started reading everything on the shelves. He’d started with _Snow Crash_ , read the Thursday Next series, a few John Grisham novels, then _Good Omens_. By the time he was finished with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, he needed something less tedious and involved. Since he was a bit lost, he asked JARVIS to find him a movie marathon that would take up the better part of his weekend.

JARVIS found him the Harry Potter series.

Then he had the books shipped to him overnight. Clint stayed up late every night to devour the books.

He had made a chart and sorted his team and most of the people he knew into houses. Natasha and Tony were easy. Thor was the most obvious, of course. Some of the others fit into more than one category.

Clint had listed all the animals he liked in descending order.

And by the time he was finished, he was red-eyed and useless, wanting only to watch all the J.K. Rowling interviews on YouTube he could find.

It was the perfect distraction.

Then, Coulson came back, Clint was cleared for duty, everything was normal again, and Clint didn’t need Harry Potter to fall into.

Except, JARVIS knows all his favorite parts of the movies, Natasha reads to him when he can’t sleep, and he has Steve’s drawings of pixies and hippogriffs all over his rooms.

And while Clint doesn’t need it, doesn’t need them to fix him as much as they think (and he knows he’s not the worst one on the team because he participates in the group hugs for Bruce every week), he appreciates the effort.

Even if it does get him teased almost constantly, it’s something he can live with.

And it’s not like Steve’s obsession with fruit or Darcy’s hidden stash of red pens is any weirder than Clint being a fan of books, after all.


End file.
